


I Love the Sound

by CookieDoughMe



Category: Haven (TV), Haven - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Troubles (Haven)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5677165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/pseuds/CookieDoughMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this story, Audrey is gone into the barn and the Troubles are at an end. Nathan buries his grief in drink and in Duke and then finds he has a choice to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love the Sound

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to show Nathan falling apart without Audrey; she is gone, he is not coping and it's making him mean. As a contrast, Duke is being nice.  
> Written with the Seether song “FMLYHM” in my head (“You come around when you find me faithless, You come around when you find me faceless. Fuck Me Like You Hate Me. … I love the sound when you come undone … I should have been the one who died.”).

Nathan walks into the Gull and it seems like a silence follows him across the room, as the crowd carefully parts to let him through - or perhaps just moves out of his way to make sure they don't get too close to him. He ignores them all as he takes his seat at the end of the bar. Then Duke is standing in front of him, looking at him with an intense expression that Nathan knows well but would never be able to put into words. Whatever that look is saying, he cuts it off with his order, “I'm just here for the whisky.”

“Right,” replies Duke, a flash of annoyance and frustration and not a little anger flitting quickly across his face. Nathan ignores that as well and downs the drink in one, gesturing for another. He almost takes the bait when he sees Duke make the smallest shake of his head as he pours, but it's easier to act like he hasn’t seen it. Duke leaves the bottle behind as he goes to serve someone else. It's pretty busy; Friday night and an end to the troubles are good for business.

Nathan sits and drinks as the crowd moves and talks around him. Busy though it is, everyone leaves him some space; no one gets too close. People he knows and people he doesn't are all giving him a wide berth lately. This is fine with him; he didn't come here to socialise.

 

He works his way steadily towards the bottom of the bottle as the evening gets late and the crowd thins until he's the only one left and it's just him and Duke again. Duke gets on with tidying the place up for a while as though Nathan weren't there, then seems to change his mind and comes to sit down next to him.

“You're going to have to go home as well at some point, you know,” he comments gently.

“Don't you tell me what to do,” mutters Nathan into his glass.

“Fine,” snaps Duke. “Sleep on the bar for all I care,” and starts to turn away again.

“I don't sleep,” observes Nathan. “Not any more. I close my eyes and all I see is her.”

Duke doesn't need to ask who he means. He hesitates and then sits back down. “She wouldn't want to see you like this, you know. I mean you do know that, right? She would want you to move on, not …”

“Move on to what? Move on from what? She's dead and gone, except it's worse than that, because she's not really is she? We've no body to bury and in 27 years she'll be back and this will start all over again, except it won't be her and I don't think I can do it,” Nathan takes a breath as though this many words, or the thought of 27 years, has worn him out.

“She wouldn't want you to drink yourself to death,” Duke says; this he is certain of. 

“How can I talk to someone with her face that doesn't know who I am, doesn't even know who she is, how can I ….?”

“Nate …” Duke puts his arm on Nathan's in an attempt to offer some small comfort. When they talk about her it's almost like she's still here and he knows she would hate to see Nathan like this. He wonders at these moments exactly how angry she would be at him for continuing to serve Nathan when he drank too much (or at all). But what could he do? If the man wanted to drink, he would drink. It wasn't like he didn't have any sorrows to drown. 

But mostly, whenever they talk about her, Duke's anger and frustration at Nathan fade and he just feels sympathy for him - just the way she would have, he realises. When they talk about her is when he misses her most and when he feels closest to Nathan, who still doesn't seem to like him much; an uncomfortable mix of emotions that leaves him feeling open and raw. 

Something which Nathan himself emphasises sometimes, like now when he responds to Duke’s touch by whipping his arm up, flicking Duke's hand away and pushing ineffectually at his shoulder, “Don't ‘Nate’ me, I don't need your pity.”

“Well you need something!” replies Duke, grabbing Nathan's arm again to stabilise him as his motion threatens to throw him from the bar stool.

“Look at you, you're a mess. How does this help? You need something besides drinking yourself to death.”

 

Nathan steadies himself and drops down from the bar stool to stand in front of Duke, looking him in the eye at last. “I lied earlier you know,” says Nathan. “I didn't just come for the drink,” and he reaches his hand to Duke's on the bar, pushing their fingers together. 

“Faithless and faceless” mutters Duke shaking his head.

“What?”

Duke sighs, “What do you want from me Wournos?”

For an answer Nathan pulls Duke off his stool, which clatters to the floor, grabbing him with one hand on Duke's neck, the other on his waist pressing their bodies together. Part of Duke wants to push him away. This is not an answer and it is all on Nathan's terms, which revolve around distracting himself from a life without Audrey; nothing about Duke at all, which is not exactly flattering. 

But then Nathan’s arms pull them tighter together; a hand moving up into Duke’s hair and the other down his back under his belt. Duke feels his breath quicken at the familiar feel of Nathan’s lips on his, and finds he is absolutely kissing back.

Duke puts his hands on Nathan's waist and moves to pull the other man's tshirt off, but Nathan stops him with an “I don't think so,” and pushes Duke back against the bar, pulling Duke's shirt open instead and tugging it down over his shoulders. Nathan holds Duke still with a hand against his chest, the other making quick work of Duke's belt and pushing his jeans down to his thighs. Nathan grabs Duke’s cock and kisses him while the movement of his fingers makes the other man’s breath catch. Duke is pinned to the spot; by Nathan's hand on his chest, by Nathan's lips on his, and by Nathan's fingers wrapped around his cock. He couldn't move if he wanted to and all he does is moan into their kiss, his clothes splayed open and his hands on the bar beside him.

Nathan leans his head back, “Do you think I'm going to let you keep your hands to yourself Crocker? Or are you trying to pretend you're not enjoying this?”

“Oh I'm enjoying myself. I'm just not sure you are.”

“Well make me enjoy it then,” replies Nathan angrily and pulls Duke's hand from the bar down towards him. Duke undoes his zip and Nathan closes his eyes; something like a smile finally reaching his lips as Duke’s fingers find his cock, running along its length as Duke watches Nathan's eyes roll back under their lids. 

Duke is pulled into the moment by the heat of the body he is pressed against and the way that makes his heart beat, but he is under no illusions. Nathan is using him, he realises. He pulls at Duke's clothes, not because he wants to see the body underneath, but because he wants to feel in control, powerful and needed, and apparently the only way he can see to do that at the moment is to use, expose and control someone else; Duke is just the only person around who'd put up with it. 

And it does leave Duke feeling cheap, but also somehow close to him, because he understands. He understands the grief and he understands Nathan. And so he breathes in the smell of this man he knows better than anyone and moans against him as Nathan pushes his back harder and harder into the bar and his fingers take his breath away; for a while there is nothing but the feel of skin on sensitive skin, and the sounds they make in each other’s ear.

Then Nathan moves back a little, one hand still pushed against Duke's chest to keep him from moving, pulling the other back just far enough to leave Duke's skin, teasing him and watching Duke strain towards his touch. 

“What? “ says Duke.“You want to see that I want you? You want to prove it to yourself that I'll moan for your touch?” and he leans forward to kiss him, though Nathan pulls his head back out of the way, “Well I will.“ I'll beg for your touch at this point if I have to, thinks Duke, though he doesn't say it.

“Shut up,“ says Nathan. “ Don't make a sound.“

“You love the sounds I make,“ says Duke and pulls Nathan close so that he can moan in his ear again.

And perhaps that is true because Nathan doesn't object, and when Duke comes with a gasp, Nathan moans himself in response as he comes too. Duke holds them close for a minute longer and then Nathan is pushing him away and doing up his jeans.

“You sounded almost happy for a moment there,” says Duke, watching him.

“Huh, almost,” replies Nathan. “What good is almost?” 

Glancing briefly in Duke's direction he adds, “Put some clothes on.”

“Do you want me mad at you?” says Duke, pushing him further away. And then it strikes him, “You do, don't you? So you can pretend this isn't real, so you can convince yourself there's nothing to it - just a bit of fun, just a distraction when it all gets too much and the drink isn't enough to dull the pain.” Duke buttons his jeans, leaves the now nearly buttonless shirt where it is. 

“Well you had fun didn't you?“ says Nathan, turning away from him to down the last of the whisky still sat in its glass on the bar.

“It's not enough,” replies Duke quietly.

“What?” asks Nathan, confused. “What more do you want?”

Duke shouts back at him, “I'm falling for you dammit!” He walks along the bar, his back to Nathan so as to not have to look at him while he gets the words out. “I can't do this again,” says Duke. “I'm ... I'm falling for you,” with a shake of his head. “But you only come to me when you're desperate and you're drunk. You can hardly look at me otherwise, you act like I’m not even here. You won't ... You just take. It's not good enough Nathan! I can't do this any more. We do this again, you're going to be sober.”

Duke turns back round to face him. “We can talk if you want, you can drink in my bar, but we're not touching again if you’ve had a drink.”

Nathan looks at him for a long moment, realisation dawning, “Guess I have a choice to make,” he says at last.

“Guess you do.”

 

Weeks go by. Duke works in the bar and doesn't see Nathan. He figures that’s it, that the guy made his choice. There are other places to find whisky after all, even in Haven.

Then one evening he comes back from the store room, turns round and sees him; standing there in front of him. Duke just stares back. What is there is to say? So he goes into barman mode and reaches for the whisky bottle. 

But then Nathan finally speaks, “I'll take an orange juice.”

Duke's hand stops dead by the shot glasses and there is a moment's pause before he manages to reply, “Interesting choice.”

Nathan looks back at him, a small smile reaching all the way to his eyes as he replies, “I hope so.”


End file.
